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And if it doesn’t, I have my other rifle strapped to my back. And he won’t be getting up if I shoot him with that.
Charlie cries out again, and I sight my shot. My entire body stills. Just me and the target. Nothing else matters at this moment.
Then I fire.
The bullet hits him square in the chest, and he falls backwards, crashing to the floor.
Seconds later, Cole and Leo crash through the door, wood splintering.
I don’t move, my hand poised to grab my rifle, until I see them grab Peter and pin him to the floor. He’s screeching, screaming, “I’m dying! You shot me! I’m dying!”
Hardly.
Now I run. Around the back of the house, the garage door, and into the basement. Not stopping for anything, as much as I want to pummel that fucker, because I need to get to Charlie.
As I rush to the table, Charlie’s terrified eyes meet mine—red and swollen, tears streaming down her cheeks. She chokes out, “Ry—” and my heart cracks. Shatters.
“Oh, Charlie.” I don’t know what to do first. Kiss her, unbuckle the leather straps holding her to the table—that fucker—or check her injuries.
She’s hurt. In pain. Shaking. Hiccuping sobs, her chest heaving in panic and fear. But she looks at me, really looks at me, and whispers, “I knew you’d come.”
“Oh, love. I’m so sorry.” I start fumbling at the leather straps while I catalog her injuries. One cheekbone swollen, and bruises everywhere. Red and purple, huge splotches across her ribs, her legs, her arms—it looks like she was thrown against something.
And her wrist. Twice its normal size, deep red, the skin tight, slightly crooked. He broke her wrist.
Finn comes over and gets to work on the straps around Charlie’s ankles. “I got this,” he says. “Leo has the asshole restrained. The police are on the way.”
“Cole!” I shout over to him, trying not to lose it. “Charlie’s hurt!”
He’s there in an instant, grim-faced, but his eyes are soft as he looks down at her. “Hey, Charlie.” Gentling his voice, he says, “I’m just going to check you out, okay? Can you tell me what hurts?”
I get the last of the hated shackles undone, and I touch Charlie’s head, stroking her hair, thumbing the tears off her face. “You’re doing such a good job,” I croon. “We’ll get you out of here soon.”
Her gaze is steady on mine, even as Cole moves his hands up her legs, checking for broken bones. “I want to go home, Ry,” she whispers. “I just want to go home with you.”
Oh. My skin feels flayed open, all my nerves exposed, the pain overwhelming.
This never should have happened.
“We will. The police are coming, and an ambulance, and we’ll go to the hospital, and then we’ll go home. I promise.”
Cole touches her wrist and Charlie hisses, then bites her lip hard. “After he tased me a second time,” she tells him quietly, “I fell on my wrist. Then he strapped me to this.”
Ah, fuck. I should have used the real bullets.
Her gaze moves back to mine, and she continues, “He wanted to make more videos. With me. But then—” She swallows hard. “When he made me change, he realized it wasn’t me in the originals. And he got so mad. I thought he might kill me…” Her voice wobbles, trailing off.
“You don’t need to say it now, love. It’s okay.”
“I threw the light at him.” Charlie pushes herself up with her good arm and gestures at the shards of metal and glass on the floor. “I thought it might give me an opening. But he tased me again.”
Cole bites out a low curse. Finn walks over to Peter, who’s zip tied on the floor by Leo, and kicks him. When he yelps, Finn hisses, “Be glad it’s not what I really want to do to you.”
“Looks like a broken wrist,” Cole says. “Possibly a fractured cheekbone. The other bruises don’t look as bad. But she definitely needs to go to the hospital.”
Leo is looming over Peter, glaring at him. He’s holding the phone to his ear, and calls over, “Police and EMTs will be here in five.”
Charlie clutches at my hand. “I need to get out of here. Please.”
